“And reinstating the tax caps makes the Throne wildly popular.”
“Right. And anyone who speaks against them....” Ardmore said.
“Is gonna be asking to be the target of the anger that’s there already. That’s brilliant, Jimmy. At least I think it is.”
“It is if I’ve read the situation correctly, Gail. We’ll have to float it past some people, but I think reinstating the tax caps now is the smart move. And you should be the one to announce it.”
“Me, Jimmy?” Burke asked.
“Of course. ‘Oh, that’s why they tried to kill her.’ Anyone who talks against them then is going to have hell itself to pay for it. He’ll be seen as part of the conspiracy.”
“Brilliant, Jimmy. Just brilliant.”
Diener echoed Burke’s comment when they told him about it the next morning. The meeting was in the private living room in the Imperial Apartment.
“That’s brilliant, Jimmy,” Diener said. “They can’t argue against it, or they must have been among those conspiring to kill the Empress. In fact, some of them may have been in on it. But it neatly checks their move. One question, though. The planetary governors collect the tax at the point of sale. How do we enforce it?”
“I think that’s easy, Paul,” Burke said. “We tell people that to disobey the Imperial Decree is, of course, treason. Anyone disobeying should be reported to the Imperial Police, both on the planet and at Imperial Police Headquarters, here on Center.”
“Which gives us a check on Imperial Police commanders in the field,” Diener said. “We’ll know right off who’s on what side. I like it. But still. What if they just don’t send us the tax money? Keep the Empire’s portion?”
“And where are those tax monies accumulated, Paul?”
“In the planetary, provincial and sector accounts in the Imperial Bank. So we can just seize them if they don’t comply. Got it.”
“I can draw that up,” Edward Moody said. “The Imperial Decree, that is. When does it go into effect?”
“A week? Next Saturday night at midnight, say?” Ardmore asked, and looked to Burke.
“Sure,” Burke said. “That works for me. Sooner is better. And the tax does not apply to any food, beverage, or housing expenses, including purchase, rent, mortgage, and construction costs.”
“And it’s three percent to the Empire, one to the sector, one to the province, and five to the planet?,” Moody asked. “Is that right? So ten percent total, as a markup from list price?”
“That’s right,” Ardmore said. “The same as it was during the reigns of the Four Good Emperors.”
“What about the announcement, Jimmy?” Diener asked.
“We will record an announcement from the Throne at noon today,” Burke said. “When the skylights are shining through. We’ve already informed the recording crew, and the Seamstress and Hairdresser are scrambling right now. I’ll stop in at makeup on the way downstairs.”
“Gail will deliver it,” Ardmore said. “She will also say people tried to kill her with the nanites hack to prevent us putting in place the tax reform. I wrote the announcement last night, and we polished it up over breakfast.”
“I love it,” Diener said. “The reaction should be fun to watch.”
“Milady, please disrobe and lie on the table.”
“I don’t have time for a full depilation today.”
“I understand, Milady, but there are some things we simply must attend to if you’re going to wear that dress.”
They got the depilator machine to working on her most obvious need, while the airbrush artist went to work on toning down her nipples. The face artist was working from the other side as they scrambled to get her ready.
It still took the better part of an hour.
The Hairdresser and her assistant came bustling in. It had only been six days since the coronation, and all they had to do was comb out her hair, apply some conditioner to get the sheen right, and make sure it fell properly. There would be no live tricks with the crown or jewels.
Burke put on the silk dressing gown and slippers, and walked next door to the Seamstress. They put the caftan on her and made sure it hung properly. They put the crown jewels on her, and then the Hairdresser and her assistant wound up her hair in their hands so the Seamstress could get the circlet of the Star of Humanity over it.
The Hairdresser and makeup people did a touch-up or two, then Burke put the silk dressing robe and slippers on and headed for the Throne Room, Imperial Guard detail trailing behind.
Ardmore was waiting for her in the Throne Room. He was dressed all in black as for the coronation, and had the gold laurel wreath portion of the crown of Sintar on his head.
“How are we for time?” Burke asked.
“You have time for a run-through before the light is on you, Milady,” the director said. “You will actually have enough time in the light to deliver it twice if you need to.”
“Excellent. All right. Let’s go.”
Burke shed the dressing gown and slippers, then took her place on the Throne. She dressed her sleeves over the arms of the Throne and extended her arms so her hands hung over the ends of the Throne’s arms.
Without her nanites being operational yet, Burke couldn’t read the speech in VR. They had set up a heads-up display, in big letters, that scrolled just above the camera lens. It would be good enough.
“Remember, Milady,” Ardmore said from his place behind and alongside her. “Head high. You are the absolute ruler of the galaxy, and you are not to be trifled with.”
The Empress Arsinoe sat on the golden Throne of the Galactic Empire, her husband and co-ruler the Emperor Ptolemy standing by her side. The sun streamed in from the skylights above, glimmering off the gold of the Throne, the gold of their crowns, the gold of her necklace. The jewels of the necklace sparkled blue in the sunlight, while the great blue stone on her forehead, the Star of Humanity, radiated beams of blue fire.
Her translucent chiffon caftan did little to hide the shape of her naked body, her skin gleaming through. Her curly black hair cascaded down her back. Her head high, her hands curled over the arms of the Throne, she addressed all humanity.
“Citizens of the Galactic Empire.
“Emperor Augustus VI, in the last years of his reign, set out on a course of reforming the Empire. His goal was to restore the Empire to its greatness during the Golden Age of Trajan the Great, Trajan II, Antoninus, and Augustus the Great.
“The late Emperor restored the Law of Ilithyia II, did away with censorship, restored the school curricula, and restored the merit award of Imperial scholarships. He restored each of these areas back to what they were during that Golden Age.
“His Majesty and I aided the Emperor in these reforms over the last seven years. It is our intention to continue reforming the Empire during our reign. To restore the Empire to what it once was, for the benefit of all its citizens.
“The next reform on our list is tax reform. At one time, the entire Empire had one tax, the same tax, for all its citizens. That was a point-of-sale sales tax of ten percent. Food, beverages, and housing expenses were exempted, and no other taxes of any kind were permitted.
“Under this tax, the Empire flourished, and citizens were left to spend most of their money in the way that suited them best. The Emperor Augustus II repealed this one tax, and taxes have multiplied and rates have gone up since.
“No more. This morning I signed an Imperial Decree reimposing the limits on taxes throughout the Empire. Beginning next Saturday night at midnight local time, wherever in the Empire you are, a point-of-sales tax of a ten percent markup on list price is the only legal tax. Once again, food, beverages, and housing costs are exempt.
“That will be the only legal tax in the Empire. Every other tax, any higher tax rate, will now be illegal. As this is an Imperial Decree, attempting to collect any other tax, or any higher tax rate, or any tax on food, beverages, or housing after next Saturday midnight is treason against the Throne.
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“Do not take No for an answer. The laws of the Empire apply to taxman and taxpayer alike. There is no exemption from this Imperial Decree. There is no sidestepping it. If some official tries to collect a higher tax, or some other tax, report them to the Imperial Police, both on your home planet and here on Center.
“Then I will deal with them.
“There are those who are opposed to our reforms. Who have enjoyed advantage at the cost of the common people. Those people tried to kill me last Friday, right after the coronation. Were it not for the speedy reactions of my beloved husband and Emperor, and of the Imperial doctors, I would have died a week ago today from a nanite attack.
“Yet we are undeterred. The reforms will continue. We will rule the Empire for the benefit of all its citizens, as our oaths to this Throne – your Throne – require.
“As we usher in this new Golden Age, we are both proud and humbled to serve you.”
The Empress and the Emperor spread their arms and bowed their heads to the camera.
They reviewed the recording via a projection on the wall of the private living room with Diener and Moody that afternoon.
“It’s perfect,” Diener said. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You’re sure, Paul?” Burke asked. The sun comes around every day. I can re-record it tomorrow if we need to.”
“No, Your Majesty,” Moody said. “You were magnificent.”
“First names, Edward,” Ardmore said.
“I’m sorry, Jimmy. But her address was so Imperial, so powerful, right now I just – can’t.”
Burke looked at Ardmore, and he nodded.
“It was wonderful, Gail. You’re getting very good at this.”
“All right then, if you all say so,” Burke said. “When do we publish it?”
“Why not now?” Diener asked. “You’re both still riding the wave from the coronation. Punch it up with this.”
“I think that’s right,” Ardmore said.
“Very well. Edward, you may instruct Mr. Armitage to release the recording to the newsfeeds.”
“Yes, Milady Empress.”
It took Kenneth Armitage of the Imperial Press Office just twelve words to announce the Empress’s address to the citizens of the Empire.
PRESS RELEASE
– For Immediate Release –
IMPERIAL PALACE – Empress Arsinoe issued an Imperial Decree regarding tax reform today. See attached.
“Chief, did you see this?” Sherry Atkins asked.
“Yes,” Joe Fender said. “An address from the Empress herself. Other than the annual greeting, that’s very nearly unprecedented. And your hearsay scuttlebutt about an assassination attempt on the Empress with a nanite attack is confirmed.”
“Told ya.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, Sherry. I said we couldn’t publish it. Now we can. However, this just became job one. If all we did – the whole division – is work on this nanite hack, we stand to break the biggest story in the Empire in decades.”
“You think it’s that big, Chief?”
“Yes, I do. I can smell it. So I want you to put together an investigation plan for me. Manpower is always the limiting factor. Not now. Assume you have all the resources of the Investigative Reporting Division. That we can follow up every lead, interview every person of interest, track down every record, anywhere in the Empire.”
“Who’s going to run the investigation, Chief?”
“You are, Sherry. It’s your story. Use the whole division. Whatever you need. And I’m here for you whenever you want or need advice. We’re gonna break this thing wide open. That’s what people expect of GNS, and that’s what we’re going to give them.”
“You got it, Chief.”
Orders went out from Fender’s office, and the vast resources of the galaxy’s largest news organization turned to the task. Within hours, Atkins found herself with a staff of fifty – working from multiple locations in VR – just to sort all the leads coming in and work the follow-ups. The investigation map Atkins set up doubled and redoubled as she watched. The best and most aggressive investigative reporters in the galaxy worked for GNS’s Investigative Reporting Division, and they were all off the leash.
Hugo Barnstead was the Publisher of Galactic News Service. He was the one single person through whom all the decisions flowed. The newsfeed was his. His product. His responsibility.
“Hello, Joe,” Barnstead said.
“Hello, Hugo,” Joe Fender said.
“I wanted to check with you on this nanite hack assassination story. This is a big one, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Hugo, I think so. I can smell it.”
“So can I. Who have you got on it?” Barnstead asked.
“Sherry Atkins.”
“Is she light for this, Joe?”
“Twenty years in IRD, Hugo,” Fender said. “So maybe a little. But it’s her story. She smelled it first, and she’s got the feel for it. She’s way out ahead of what we’ve been able to publish, and it’s all coming down the way she called it. She brought the assassination attempt to me yesterday, but we couldn’t publish it.”
“She did, huh? All right, Joe. I just wanted to be sure we had a handle on it.”
“No, we’re good, Hugo. And Sherry knows to call on me if she needs help.”
“OK. I’ll let you get back to work, Joe. Talk to you later.”
Other news services also smelled blood in the water, and now, with no censorship in place Empire-wide, the gloves were off. Press conferences, normally ho-hum affairs, would become bare-knuckle free-for-alls as the press went after politicians and business people alike. There was a story here – a big one – and they all knew it. They were all scrambling to be the one to break it.
The Empress had set the dogs on the scent, and the dogs were running.
Reactions
It was a double whammy – the Palace announced the hack into the health maintenance nanites on Thursday evening, and then the Empress announced on Friday afternoon the nanite hack had been used in an attempt to assassinate her.
It was clear whose side the Empress was on. The tax reforms would cut the taxes paid by some of the Empire’s citizens in half, and would seriously reduce taxes for everyone.
All this on top of the traditional bump in the polls the new Emperor or Empress got in the weeks after their coronation.
And now the people knew evildoers unknown had tried to murder their beautiful Empress.
What had been anger turned to rage. It seethed, and it was looking for an outlet.
It was Saturday, but with all the Imperial news coming out, Frank Portman, chief of staff to the Baden Sector Governor, was in the office. He had been staying in his apartment in the sector governor’s residence in Heidelberg for the last several months.
“Well, isn’t that just lovely,” Manfred von Hesse said.
“Now what do you want to do, sir?” Portman asked.
“Want to do? I want to come out strongly against this overreach of Imperial power. That’s what I want to do, but I won’t. She’s set this up very nicely. If I come out against her tax mandate, I obviously am part of a huge conspiracy that wants her dead.”
Which was, of course, the truth. Portman said nothing.
“What I will do, however, is support her. I have no real choice at this point. What a dumbass move. Trying to kill her. If you’re going to strike at the Throne, you had best succeed. Even that doesn’t guarantee you won’t end up incinerated by the survivors, though. Do these people not know any history?”
“The Imperial Council killed Ilithyia II, and they got the Emperor Trajan,” Portman said.
“And a serious case of dead. Exactly. And if they had succeeded in killing the Empress last week, what did they expect the Emperor to do? Sit idly by? Comment on the weather?”
“They apparently thought he wouldn’t be trouble. Academic and all.”
“Again, no knowledge of history. Academics are among the most brutal r
ulers of all. Especially historians. They go for the long-term result, and in the long term, everyone is dead. The rest is a matter of timing.”
Von Hesse shook his head.
“Perhaps it’s time I look to the long term myself. It is becoming clear we have a most lethal combination on the Throne. Very cunning young rulers who have a knowledge of history and a feel for the people writ large. No Palace brats these. No hothouse flowers. The Throne always has all the advantages, but the occupant may not realize it. These two, however, do realize it. Opposing them may simply be a very complicated means of committing suicide, particularly right now.”
“So what do we do now, sir?”
“We support the tax measure and express our shock and disapproval of the assassination attempt. Longer term, I’ll have to see how this unfolds. Being sector governor, even under a strong Emperor, is better than not being sector governor, and is much better than being dead. Which is where this is headed. I don’t intend to ride that train to the end of the line.”
The stocks of the health maintenance nanite manufacturers took a huge hit after the Palace’s warning about the nanites hack, and the bottom fell out of them after the announcement of the attempted assassination.
Franz Becker had liquidated his position in those firms prior to the crash, and had gone back to Ardmore’s book to see what reforms the Throne likely planned that were still not in place.
Operational control of the military by the Throne didn’t present any concrete investment opportunities he could see, but taking down sector tariffs and import bans did, as did reimposing Imperial tax caps. He had bet on the tax caps as being most likely, and particularly the exemption for housing construction expenses.
Becker had taken the money coming out of his nanite manufacturer positions and used it to build up his holdings in the housing sector. Not just raw materials, but the manufacturers of all the myriad tools, equipment, and finished goods used in new housing. He was gratified to see the sector surging after last night’s address by the Empress, as others saw the same opportunity and jumped in.
EMPIRE: Resistance Page 7
